The Long Journey
by Hot Dog BSG
Summary: A DA story with original characters. Set during the blight and using the events of DA:O as a backdrop. A Bandit Queen kidnaps a young noble, intent on ransoming him to fund her own journey for the mythical Eye of Time artifact. However, she does not count on her captive's lust for adventure or on the group of sellswords his Father's employs to have his son returned safely.
1. Prologue

A moonless night rose over the forests around the castle. White stone and ivy towered above the canopy of the trees, a beacon in a quickly darkening world.

The canopy and the trees dropped off 100 yards or more from the exterior wall of the castle itself, open ground the first line of defense for the inhabitants within. Five figures stood in the shadows just inside the line of trees. Wearing dark clothes, hoods, and masks - they blended in perfectly with the blackness around them. The smallest of the five stood a step before the others holding a blackened metal spyglass up to its eye.

It tracked the guards as they patrolled the tower. They had chosen this time specifically. Changing of the guard. A five minute window where tobacco was smoked, gossip was exchanged, and alertness was at a minimum.

The last of the guards disappeared into a staircase that led off the exterior security wall. The coast was clear. The smallest figure raised an arm, and spun a hand around once in a circle, indicating it was time to go. Swiftly, the five figures ran across the grounds between the forests and the wall. They came to a halt at the foot of the wall, and five grappling hooks were pulled free of their belts. The hooks were tossed up into the air, and all five caught on the wall at the top. The figures climbed.

Once on the wall, the leader raised two fingers, and pointed behind them to the stairwell where the two guards would be coming from. Two of the five dropped back, raising crossbows, and ducking into the shadows of the wall's corners. The other three began to run. The target window was close, but two floors above where they currently stood. The whispers of crossbow bolts fired, two thuds indicated the death of two guards.

The lead figure approached a second set of stairs. The guard who manned the bonfire alert system would be headed up any time now. Behind the leader, the two remaining bandits tossed two more grappling hooks to the target balcony. The lead figure heard a yawn, and the tapping of a large lighting torch as it thudded against the floor of each stair. The figure slipped its back against the wall, until the guard stepped out into the open air. He never saw the figure who's hands grabbed his head, and twisted hard enough to break his neck. The figure caught him, leaned him up against one of the walls, head down, torch in his arms - looking asleep.

The lead figure turned, leaping off the wall, grabbing on to one of the grappling ropes, which was held taut by one of the other bandits. Legs wrapping around the rope, hand over hand, the figure was on the balcony within minutes. It tied off the ropes on the balcony side for strength, and set to work picking the lock on the balcony door. By the time all four of the other bandits were on the balcony, the door pushed open slowly. They fanned out as they entered, all five drawing crossbows.

The approach had been so silent, their target never woke. The leader took a position at the foot of the bed, the other four standing over the man sleeping in the bed before them. Once all were in place, the leader raised a foot, and kicked the bed hard, startling the man awake.

Shanen Hamelton, 21 years of age and Teryn Hamelton's eldest son sat up in surprise, instantly awake to see five figures surrounding his bed, illuminated by the dying embers of a wall lamp.

The leader raised a hand, pulling the mask away, leaving the hood - revealing a young woman, with light silver eyes, and pitch black hair. "Good Morning, my Prince. Should I have woken you with a kiss instead?"

If the young man was afraid, he gave no hint as he regarded the intruders in silence. The blanket fell down his body to reveal arms and a torso toned thick with muscle; the result of years of training with the castle's Master at Arms. Even in the half light of the bed chamber he could tell the young woman who taunted him was strikingly beautiful with sharp features and long dark hair peaking from her hood.

"I can think of one place I'd have your lips." Came the instant retort. "Parlour games have little effect on me. I'm impressed you got in but it's only a matter of time before you are found. Perhaps you should take the chance to leave, while you still can, my father takes a dim view of thieves, especially those who wish rob him in his own home."

"There's plenty of time for foreplay later, Highness." The woman laughed, although not at his threat. "I'm afraid we do have other matters to attend right now." She said as she motioned to one of her men, who gathered some of the young Noble's clothes and threw them on his bed. She raised her crossbow a hair higher, the line of the point from her arrow aimed directly at his throat. "Now, I'm going to ask you to get dressed, and come quietly with me and my men. I'd like to keep this encounter polite, I'd hate to have to tell my men to get your little sister instead. I don't like children."

It was only then that Shanen realised what, or rather who, they were after. The mention of his sister, flamed his anger but the arrow aimed directly at his his ensured he had no choice but to comply.

Silently, he rose from the bed, taking no effort to hide his nudity. Rather than being embarrassed he fixed the leader of the intruders with a defiant stare as he dressed; his eyes rarely turning away from her.

As he pulled on bottoms and a pair of boots his mind raced. He could call for the guards but that would almost certainly end up with his death. To be sure, the Bandits wanted him alive as a hostage but they would value their freedom more than having him as a prize and would almost certainly not hesitate to dispose of him if the situation warranted it.

As one of the would-be kidnappers turned to check the corridor he realised his moment to strike was in place. He dropped the upper body garment he was holding and grabbed at the man's dagger on his waist. As the man turned, Shanen slashed him across the chest. It would not be fatal but it would take him out of the fight. He felt naked with no upper body protection of any kind, not even a shirt, but he pushed the thought out of his mind, knowing the need for concentration.

As the first bandit fell with a scream of pain the second intruder closest to him made an effort at a grab but Shanen pivoted back quickly and plunged the blade deep into the man's upper arm. Wrenching the weapon free he ignored the blood spurting from the wound as he turned to face the remaining intruders.

It was the woman who acted next. Slowly, she raised a hand to her remaining two men, a signal for them to wait. Dropping the crossbow on the bed, she stepped in to engage the him herself. Barehanded, she stepped into a low crouch, her eyes fixed on his hips, to see where his momentum was going. Before Shanen could attack again, she stepped forward and swung a kick toward his chest with intent to knock him off balance.

The swiftness of her attack surprised even an experienced combatant such as Shanen. He stumbled, the wind temporarily knocked out of him. Frustrated by the confidence of the woman, he moved toward her in a traditional unarmed fighting stance. He had never fought a woman before and part of his chivalrous upbringing remained with him, even in the midst of a kidnapping attempt.

He dropped his dagger, already red with blood and swung a fist instead, hoping to stun her. If he could do that, then he would be able to focus on the two remaining male accomplices, who would be stronger and by the looks of them, much more dangerous to him than this mystery woman.

The punch was blocked with her own arm rising to meet the blow. "You're underestimating me!" She hissed angirly, seemingly annoyed that the nobleman would not engage her on the same terms as he had met the male attackers. She fired another kick toward his side. "Fight for keeps, Highness, or don't fight at all!"

She was letting her emotions seep in to her judgement, Shanen judged. His Master At Arms had once declared that in a fight, the mental edge was just as vital as a physical one. "When my father takes you prisoner, I'll request he doesn't take your head. I think you'd be much more at home as one of the kitchen maids. You have the look of a washer woman." He taunted, charging her.

"Highness, it may have escaped your notice, but I'm not like the whores that you charm into your bed." She met his attack head on. Her first blow was an elbow to his muscular chest, the second was the same arm swinging wide like a bat, the outside of her fist connecting with the side of his head. When he reeled, the third was a kick to his hip to throw him to the floor.

It was the shot to his temple that finished the fight. He barely felt the third blow but certainly felt his head hit the hard stone floor.

His bare skin felt cold against the ground. He was starting to fade out of consciousness as he saw his attacker move over to her two wounded men and disposed of them without a hint of compassion.

"Dead men tell no tales." Her voice echoed around his head as he lost consciousness.

"Pick him up." The woman gave the order to her two remaining Henchmen. She looked down at the two she had to kill, their blood on the floor, wounded... they were no more use to her.

With an effort, the larger of her two men pulled Shanen to his feet before letting his unconscious body fall over his shoulder. He waited as his leader threw her ransom demands and instructions onto the Nobleman's bed before following her into the corridor and down the nearby staircase.

The three moved efficiently. Shanen's horses were in the yard below and they had every intention of stealing the animals on the way out.

They made quick work of saddling three horses. "The captive will ride with me." She stated the order as she ran to the unguarded gatehouse. Complying with the demand, her man draped Shanen's unconscious form over the front of one Horse, as the leader of his kidnappers began to turn the wheel that managed the gate. It sounded of thunder as the mechanisms shifted and groanded into life as the gate drew upwards. The three horses trotted from the stables, pausing to pick up the woman, who even with the Castle waking, made sure the Nobleman was steady on the horse before she herself mounted. By the time anyone made it to the gate, they were back in the safety of the forest, and gone.


	2. The Captive Prince

The Stygian darkness from the moonless night agreed with Alaric's nocturnal sensibilities. He had not slept ever since he left the Circle out of fear of the Fade. The Circle offered protections against the Fade's encroachment. The only benefit of being part of the Circle in his mind. Alaric missed being a part of that brotherhood at night. The Fade's call was strongest at night. It was when his Mana reserves were at its nadir. He found ways to compensate. Two hours of meditation. Thirty minutes of bed rest. Two more hours of meditation. He was in the middle of his second meditation session when a panicked knocking disturbed him.

"Alaric," he heard a voice shout. "Alaric! Please! We need you!"

He glided through the darkness to the solid oak door, finding the latch to undo the lock and slid it open, with a creak of hinges. The torchlight spilled into his room as the door slowly swung inward, blinding him momentarily and revealing Alaric to those crowded in the hallway. His long silk black hair was parted down the middle and fell down to his shoulders. He covered his handsome, rugged face, with his hands, trying to protect his eyes. Alaric was wearing his silver and bronze embroidered cotton night gown. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Teyrn Garlan Hamelton and a few of his personal guards with weapons drawn.

"Your Grace?" Alaric began to talk. "Am I under arrest. Have I offended my Teyrn?"

Teyrn Garlan shook his head. "No. Of course not my friend. But I fear your talents are needed urgently. My son has been kidnapped. Please… Come with me." The Teyrn gestured for the Mage to follow. Alaric bowed toward his Teryn and obediently complied as he had always done for the Patriarchs of the Hamelton family whom he has served under. As he left his shadowy room, he reached and grabbed his dragon-bone staff resting by the door and trailed a respectful distance from the Teryn and his honour guard. They went straight to the bed chamber of Shanen, the Teryn's eldest son. To Alaric a kidnapping from inside the castle seemed nigh on impossible, more so when considering who they had taken. Shanen may have been young but he was a skilled fighter and combat hardened as was immediately evident, judging by the two bodies sprawled dead on the floor.

Teyrn Garlan stopped at the bed and picked up a folded sheet of parchment. Alaric remained at the doorway, surveying the scene. His Master's hands shook with fury as he read the ransom note. Alaric watched his liege with indifference for only a brief moment before re-studying the scene in front of him. Two dead men on the floor, their blood staining the exquisite carpeting and bed sheets. Alaric did not recognise the men and surmised they had been slain by Shanen before his attackers had managed to subdue him.

The guards had already secured the room. Two of them stationed themselves at the window. The rest spread out awaiting command. Alaric turned his head away from them and back towards the dead bodies.

"My Teryn. If I may not offend by interruption." Alaric's voice cut through the silence. Teryn Garlan's head snapped up away from the parchment and toward Alaric.

"Continue, my friend," Teryn Garlan replied.

Alaric bowed his head in subservience toward his lord. "Thank you, your Grace. I do not need to know what that ransom note reads in order to understand what they are after. Whoever did this is intelligent beyond measure. It stands to reason they planned this for months and left nothing to chance." Alaric paused and gestured toward the two. Teryn Garlan nodded his noble head in agreement. "I fear I am not telling you anything new," Alaric continued. "I realize you have already come to this observation yourself. What I can offer you is a way to acquire additional information. Though, it may be distasteful to your senses."

Alaric allowed his last few words to linger in the air. Teryn Garlan knew what Alaric was implying. Alaric was, by trade, a White Necromancer. It was a term that Alaric himself had created to explain his own powers. Teryn Garlan never fully questioned the esoteric nature of Alaric's trade. Truthfully he had no wish to fully know. The Teryn stared at Alaric, considering his words carefully.

"Continue."

"Of course, my Teryn," Alaric responded and bowed his head again. "These two men are only recently deceased. I will require them to be transferred to the dungeons. Secure their limbs. Send your fastest rider to my domicile and have them collect my dark azure travelling bag. Under no circumstances are they to open it."

Alaric's words again hung in the air, their grim overtones only too noticeable. Teryn Garlan called for his servants and repeated Alaric's instructions to them. The servants bowed and without question or hesitation went straight to their task. The Teryn dismissed his guard and waited in silence until the servants had done their work. Alaric kept a stoic disposition throughout. Once the two men were alone in the dimly lit room of his kidnapped son, Teryn Garlan walked up to the Mage.

"What is it that you will do in my name?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"My lord," Alaric began. "I would never do anything in your name that you did not want me to do."

"Then what is it that you will do for my benefit, but not in my name?"

"Two vivisections," Alaric darkly replied. "The first to loosen the tongue of the second. After the second pleads for his life and shares all the information about the kidnappers, he will be dispatched in the same way as the first."

All blood drained away from Teryn Garlan's noble visage. His jawline tightened while he considered the grim business which Alaric proposed. Seconds passed before the Teryn nodded, giving consent to the plan.

The camp was a small, somewhat temporary establishment in the middle of the forest. Walls and buildings had been loosely constructed of wood, sailcloth, and thatch, to provide reasonable protection at minimal cost and labour. Bandits moved in shifts, never leaving walls unguarded, but made no move to hide their presence. Fires, cooking smells, the banging of metal, laughter, spars - life floated away from the camp. There was no sense in attempting to hide an operation of this size, so the Bandit Queen had not even bothered to do so.

She crossed the camp in long, quick strides, having changed from the dark clothes and hood into her armour. She wore simple chain, covering most of her torso, her lower arms, legs, and hips. There were breaks in the armour at any pivot point, as she favoured the ability to move freely over the added protection. On her back, and the back of her upper arms, she almost proudly displayed a lattice work of shallow scars. She wore few weapons, a crossbow strapped to her back, and a mace hanging from her hip.

She was human in height, weight, and build - but her coloration was clearly more Dalish. Long black hair fell straight down her back, ghostly grey eyes looked out from under long eyelashes. Her features were sharp and delicately pointed, her skin very pale. If her men thought she was beautiful, they certainly never said so - one glare from her eyes was enough to make any person wish they hadn't evoked such an emotion.

She ducked under the cloth doorway to the largest of the tents in the encampment and nodded to the two guards who were standing over her quarry. "You are relieved, I can manage His 'Highness' on my own. Go and gather food and drink for him."

Wordlessly, the two nodded in return, and left the tent.

The Prince was still sleeping. Once she and her companions had reached a safe distance from the castle she had ordered a stop. She had a special concoction brewed especially for the occasion and had spread a liberal amount of it on a rag which she had pressed over the unconscious Nobleman's mouth and nose to ensure he continued to slumber. He had not stirred the entire journey and was now laid out on a reasonably comfortable cot in the corner of her tent, without bindings. She had covered the lower half of his body with a blanket, leaving his chest and arms exposed. His muscled and tanned physique suggested a lifetime of work in the practise yard beneath a warm sun.

The walls of the tent were reinforced with wood slats, which would prove a difficult obstacle for the Prince if he wished to attempt escape. The Bandit Queen took her set at a desk to read over the various reports and information she'd been gathering. Her desk faced the Prince, not wanting to turn her back on him. Any movement on his part would catch her attention.

She did not have long to wait for her captive to stir. Within a few minutes he had let out a small groan and slowly raised himself up. He looked to her but instead of offering an insult or some kind of quip as she had been expecting, he instead took the time to study his new surroundings. "_Smart" _she thought to herself. He would not have failed to notice the slats on the wall, the fact he was unbound and that she was now dressed in armour.

"I'm guessing you don't keep all your kidnap victims in such comfortable surroundings." He said eventually, "Or is this your own tent? Perhaps you stole me away to enjoy me." His tone was dismissive, showing no hint of fear.

"_He's brave, I'll give him that..."_

Her eyes flicked up from her work toward Shanen without any movement on the part of her chin or head. She watched him for a second after he spoke. Then her chin rose, and with the smirk, she affixed him with her piercing gaze. "I believe the colloquial phrase, Your Majesty, is 'You Wish'. Welcome to my encampment. I have some of my men gathering you food and drink. As I'm sure it will cross your mind, neither food nor drink is poisoned. If I wanted you dead, I'd have killed you back in your tower. Your comfort is necessary to ensure your health, I'd hate for you to fall ill before my ransom is paid."

As if waiting for a cue one of the guards came back with a plate of reasonably good smelling breakfast, and a glass of juice. He set the food before Shanen on a small table, and glared at him as though the Prince offended him. To his credit, the Nobleman offered his own defiant stare back. As he exited a camp follower entered with a small pack of paper.

"L... Ma'am.. There's been a new report on the arti..."He said, stepping toward her.

"Not now, Kypson." The woman cut him off immediately. "We do not discuss our plans in front of prisoners. Just leave the report. I'll read it at my leisure. You're dismissed."

He nodded, handing her the report, and leaving the tent as quickly as possible, clearly in fear of her wrath for nearly spilling information. The woman glanced back to Shanen after the two guards had left, and leaned back in her chair. She seemed to be considering him in silence.

"Obviously you know who I am." He said, after washing a bite of sausage down with a sip of juice. "Would you do me the same courtesy? Perhaps you could also tell me how you plan on surviving my father's wrath at the kidnapping of his eldest son."

I am called the Bandit Queen - though the term is a hair gaudy for my taste. I would prefer something with a little more of an intimidating connotation. In light of that, and because 'Bandit Queen' is rather a mouthful to say if you need to ask any questions or make any requests... my name is Lyra." She said, offering a nod of her head - a form of respect. "Forgive the glares from my men. This camp is full of people who have been slaves and orphans. The lost and forgotten of this society given homes and purpose in an army that operates wilfully outside the law. To them, your upbringing is cause for contempt."

""Ah. That tale of woe. One cannot feel guilty for the family they were born into." Shanen spoke up, seemingly annoyed that his kidnapper had chosen to lecture him on the ills of society.

She rose, setting the pages down on her desk, and crossed the space between to take a seat nearer to Shanen. She seemed to occupy the small chair with all the presence and bearing as if it were a throne. "As for my escape and survival - I'm pleased to hear of your concern for me and mine, however - why don't you leave that to me? I assure you, I do have a plan." She said ignoring his reproach.

"You should be pleased that it was me to abduct you, Your Majesty. I don't believe in torture or brutality. I will kill you, if need comes to it - I can't be seen as going soft. However, I know other encampments who would be cheering right now in the hope that your ransom was not paid. Those camps would take pleasure in your inevitable destruction. I am benevolent, however, I promise you now if I must dispatch you - it will be quick and painless, same as the death I granted my men inside your tower."

"Yes, those lucky men, to have a leader so caring and benevolent." He replied deadpan before stealing a glance at the table, his interest now piqued by the actions of the messenger and the woman known as Lyra. "Tell me, do all your followers meet such a heroic end. Killed by their masters in the room of the man they were hired to abduct?"

He changed tact before she could answer "I'm assuming with me as your hostage you are expecting a handsome ransom and you're likely to get it, although I doubt you will enjoy it for long. Therefore, I must ask the question of why me? Surely there are easier targets out there, also from wealthy families. Of course; no family is as wealthy as mine or have any children likely to raise a reward for a safe return such as I will, but it would have been more than enough keep your little gang of thugs, robbers, rapists and murderers going for a long time."

"Of course, I'm assuming money is your reward. Perhaps you had something else in mind, hence why I was taken. It looks you never troubled to dress me. Do you like what you see Queen?" He pointed to his muscled upper body, his tone taunting.

Lyra refused to be baited and waited until she was sure he had finished speaking before offering her own reply. She knew she shouldn't respond to him, but allowed herself a moment of weakness - and drew breath slowly to speak. Her responses were measured, words carefully chosen, tone carefully controlled.

"Firstly, your Majesty. I would like to start by saying that there are no rapists in my crew. Any there have been were killed by me personally. And - despite my prior assertion that brutality was not necessary, I took pleasure in their pain and death. Secondly, I take as good care of my men as I am able, those whom do not displease me. They knew the risks of going to your tower to kidnap you, but I did not have the time to tend their wounds, or see to their safety. And a trail of blood or bodies would not have done my camp here any favours." The cold in her tone was now underlined in something much harder, much more dangerous.

"Thirdly, I would not expect you to feel guilt or emotion for those whom you consider your underlings. But know this - these men deserve your respect, as do your own servants and slaves. Even if you offer none to me, I will not stand for you to imply that their pain is in any way meaningless.

"Lastly, money is common. I have little use for it, it's only worth what can be purchased with it. I am on a hunt for a prize, though do not bother asking me what, or where. I don't need you running back to your father with my secrets so you can follow me. Suffice it to say, I have my... reasons... for finding the prize, and it's worth quite a bit more than you." Only when she was done speaking did she look up to meet his eyes with her own.

"Believe me My Lady, I have great respect for those below me. The Masons and servants, the cooks and the guards. I wonder, how many of those guards were hurt last night in your attempt to steal me away? Men just doing their job. Where was your respect?" He seemed to ignore her mention of the prize, correctly judging that she would not reveal much, if anything.

"Your guards knew of the danger when they accepted the position. Just as my men knew of the danger when they agreed to travel with me to abduct you." She said, once more keeping her tone light, unconcerned - heartless. "I could easily have died, I may yet. Your father will have fewer quarrels with my men than he will with me, if this camp is attacked."

She rose, turning her back on him almost in an attempt to bait him. It was a calculated move, exposing the scars all the way down her back to him.. She walked quietly back to her desk, and sat down once more to look over the notes and plans she kept on the table. Her legs crossed once more, she picked up one of the reports to start reading. "Now, while I could discuss issues within our social system, and the punishment of foul men all day - I'm afraid work must interfere. If you get outlandishly bored, I can have someone knock you out or I can see if the cook wants you to peel potatoes for dinner this evening. Otherwise, I'm going to ask you not to interrupt me unless it's urgent."

To her annoyance the man complied and sat in silence but watched her intently the whole time while doing so. Lyra made an effort to pretend not to notice but it was no good.

As if sensing her unease Shanen spoke up once again. "So...You break into my home, forcefully render me unconscious and take me all the way to your tent, where I wake up to find myself topless and lying on your bed. I'm thinking there may be an ulterior motive at work. Are you sure you didn't enjoy me when I was out cold? Not even a stolen kiss?" He asked, a confident smirk in place.

Despite her cold exterior, Lyra couldn't help but find the comment amusing. There was the barest chuckle in her voice. "Your highness, as I told you back in your room - I'm not one of the maidens you are so easily able to charm into your bed. I have no interest in pampered men, regardless of how attractive they consider themselves."

"Pampered?" He scoffed. "Rich maybe, but pampered? I've been holding a sword since I was three. When I was sixteen I trekked over the Frostback Mountains to Orlais then on to Navarr. I've fought and loved and killed all over the kingdom. I am not some soft lord. You can find that out for yourself."

Her eyes didn't leave the report but she was secretly pleased to have wounded his pride, even slightly. She continued scanning the words on the page, making notes with a long feathered quill at regular intervals for things she wanted to explore in greater detail, or things she didn't think were wholly accurate. "For your sake, Majesty - I hope this is not some ill planned attempt at flattery or seduction that you somehow think will have you released." With that, she glances up with a smirk of her own, devoid of any humour.

"Of course not. I am sure my Father will be paying the ransom forthwith but in the meantime we can entertain ourselves. I like women with passion and you clearly have a thing for young, muscular and kidnapped Prince's."

Lyra shook her head, folding the notes in her lap and fixing Shanen with a look. The Young Lord did have a brass set on him, her own men didn't flirt with her half the time. She wore a look of amusement - caught somewhere between being ever so slightly flattered, and extraordinarily wary of his charms.

"You must be daft." She said with a laugh. "I can't decide if you've just never had a woman say no to you, or if you really think this charade of yours had any chance of success. No matter though - there is very little chance of you having that sort of... entertainment... while in this camp, Lordship. Most especially, not from me - though I can see if any of my guards have a taste for young arrogant men."

There was a pause after she spoke and she picked her notes back up, still laughing to herself. "Now, don't make me knock you out to shut you up - I'm beginning to like you." When she saw his satisfied smirk at her words she added a good deal colder in her tone, "Hopefully I won't have to put my dagger through your heart."


End file.
